Sitting here on the rooftops,
I watch the sun set over the city.
A single, fiery red ball
Staining the surrounding clouds a bright pink.

The wind, herald of the upcoming storm,
keeps playing with strands of my hair
which hangs over my shoulders like a veil
heavy, warm, protecting.

And I give myself up to the daydreams.
The distant rattling of the train
paints the image of you sitting in it
just on your way to see me.

I can almost feel your warm touch on my shoulder
and hear the reproval in your voice
telling me, I must be crazy
to sit in the cold like that.

My eyes closed, I'd start explaining,
how beautiful the world seems upon dusk.
How the blue hour makes all the colours burst.
How the clear air seems to fill every cell of your body.

I'd breath in your sweet, well-known scent
as you sit down next to me on the roof,
I'd put my arms around you
to keep you warm while you huddle closer.

No need to tell just how much I missed you
or how months can turn into years.
Together, with a mix of melancholy and ease
we wait for the close of the day.

Then I open my eyes to the pitch black,
shivering for the want of your touch
and the comfort of your presence.
Once again sobered by the incipient rain.